“Here they are,” said Violet.
A spot of dingy scarlet showed through the trees, and next moment Billy Croom, followed by Con Cogan, broke into the glade.
“That’s the tree!” cried Con. “Musha! but who’s them?”
When the rabble had run Mr Murphy to earth, or rather into the wood, they paused. They did not mind pursuing him across the open a hundred strong. Pursuing him through the wood was quite a different matter, for pursuit through a wood means breaking up into small parties, and there was not a man amongst the lot who would have tackled Mr Murphy, even with the assistance of a couple of others.
“Lave him be!” cried the populace. “Sure, you might as well hunt for a needle in the siven acres. More’s the pity, with the reward out aginst him, and all.”
“What’s the reward?” asked Billy Croom.
“A hundred pound.”[[3]]
[3]. The reward, as entered in the Police Register, was £10; ten times ten makes a hundred.
“A hundred pound, and him in the wood!”
“Ay, a hundred pound.”